


One Step Away

by DoctorSyntax



Series: One Night A Day [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Coda, Episode: s10e05 Babylon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 19:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11835045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorSyntax/pseuds/DoctorSyntax
Summary: "I've been thinking a lot, Scully, and I want my thoughts to be real. I need you to hear them."





	One Step Away

**Author's Note:**

> I guess maybe not really a coda? Takes place after the main storyline is over but before the final scene of the episode.

When Scully lets herself back into the apartment, she's surprised to pass through the living room and find Mulder there, sitting on the couch.

"Hey Scully," he greets, and she slows her pace to stop.

"Mulder," she says. "How did you end up here?"

He gestures toward Skinner, sitting across from him in the armchair. "I didn't know when he said 'let's get a wheelchair and get you home', he meant he was bringing me to _his_ home."

"Oh, like anyone else would have you," Skinner shoots back, but without any heat. It brings a small smile to Scully's lips as she remembers endless years of bickering between the two of them. The more things change, the more they stay the same. To Scully Skinner directs, "I was just about to head out."

"Can I talk to you for a minute first?" she asks, inclining her head toward the kitchen.

"Of course." He circles around the couch to follow her in, where she leans against the counter and shakes her head questioningly.

"Is everything ok?" she inquires in hushed tones. "I thought you said Agent Einstein had given him placebos."

"She did," he confirms, and the worry that had been steadily building lifts from her shoulders. He's speaking as softly as she is. "He's not here because he needs to be babysat. I just thought you'd like to spend some non-work time with him."

She doesn't say anything for a moment.

"Dana? I didn't mean to presume. If you don't want him here, just tell me."

She waves away his concern. "No, it's not that. Do you think he'll…"

"We had a few words before I ever brought him into the apartment. If he gives you any grief… feel free to kick him out."

They both know she'll do no such thing, but she nods, looking down for a second. When she looks back up he's right in front of her, one hand coming up to cradle the side of her face. "I'll be home around midnight," he continues. "I'll text you if plans change."

Using his tie, she tugs him down for a brief but heartfelt kiss. "Have fun," she says, releasing his tie, and him. "Say hello to Elena for me."

"I'll do that."

She watches him walk away, but something is missing, it's incomplete. When she realizes what it is, she calls his name, walking out into the living room to meet him as he turns around.

She places a hand on Skinner's arm. "Thank you." She can feel Mulder's eyes upon them but refuses to compromise this moment for his sake. She wants this to be real to Mulder, as real as it is to her and Skinner. On some level, despite Mulder's blustering anger a few years ago and his passive-aggressive jabs last week, she suspects he still doesn't believe it.

"You're welcome," Skinner answers, picking up her hand and squeezing it. "I'll see you later." With that he leaves, saying a brief goodbye to Mulder on his way out. When the front door closes, Scully turns to Mulder with a smile.

"What's your poison?" she asks. "Water or tea?"

"I want a shot of that redhead yonder lookin' at me."

It's such an incongruous, _non-Mulder_ thing to say that for a moment she can't place it. But then he smiles that familiar little smile and starts humming, and the source tugs out of her memory.

_The bartender asks me, says 'son, what'll it be?'_

Mulder is still looking at her expectantly, and she can't let him down, so she pauses for a moment and then carefully phrases her question:

"Mulder, where on Earth did you learn the Boot Scootin' Boogie?"

It gets the desired reaction, that look of mild surprise and stronger happiness that always crosses his face when she gives as good as she gets. "The guys taught it to me tonight."

The Gunmen, she realizes. Nevermind that they've been gone since before she gave William up for adoption. He's sure that he saw them in the desert in New Mexico, and he's sure that he saw them tonight. She's starting to weigh the pros and cons of starting an argument about the placebo tonight—she has a theory she knows he'll hate, about niacin deficiency in chronic alcoholics—but he continues on, effectively discarding that line of thought.

"I think the better question here is, where did _you_?"

She smiles slightly. "I came from a military family. If you think we didn't listen to country music, you're wrong."

"Please tell me there are pictures of you in a cowboy hat as a child."

She's about to shoot him down— _Sorry to disappoint, Mulder, BUT—_ until she remembers a Halloween in elementary school, back when she idolized Bill, insisting she be allowed to wear his hand-me-down costume rather than go as the princess Missy had the year before. "Maybe," she allows, fighting to keep her smile from growing. "Why don't you come with me when I sort through Mom's photo albums? We can find out together."

"Yeah?" he asks, eyes hopeful in a way she hasn't seen lately. It strikes her, then, the power that they still hold over each other. She can destroy him with a word; he can hurt her with a look. But she knows that in his heart he already knows the answer. He's not asking if she'll keep her word—he trusts that she will. He's asking if he deserves the olive branch she's extending.

"Yes," she confirms. "I'll try to pack things up, and you'll derail me with questions about different photos, although—" she breaks off, eyeing him suspiciously. "You've already seen most of them, haven't you."

That aww-shucks grin of his is, impossibly, still endearing to her. "She showed me a lot of them when you were missing. I think it helped her feel close to you."

"I'm sure it was very entertaining for you."

He grows serious all of a sudden. "No, Scully, I—it helped me, too."

She doesn't relish thinking about the months that she was gone, so she briskly tries to change the subject. "Those two young agents, what—"

"Skinner was there," he interrupts, clearly not ready to move away from the comforting ache of their heavy discussion. When she doesn't answer him right away, Mulder nods his head toward the front door, where they both last saw Skinner. "In my trip. I tried to tell him why I thought that was significant, but he didn't really want to listen."

"Would you like to tell me?" she asks, entirely unsurprised. For all of the wonderful things she's discovered about Skinner since moving in—for all of the growth he's undergone with and without her in the past twenty years—he is still essentially the same person he was when he was her boss: stubborn to the bone, with a knee-jerk instinct to avoid conflict if he didn't think he could grump his way to victory.

"I want to say it out loud," Mulder answers. "I want it to come out of my mouth, to have the weight of the words out in the air between us. I've been thinking a lot, Scully, and I want my thoughts to be real. I need you to hear them."

She shifts a little to more fully face him. "I'm listening."

"However you want to explain what happened today, I can only tell you that something _did_ happen to me. I saw the guys. I saw Skinner."

"And what do you think it means?" she asks—carefully, neutrally.

"I don't know, Scully. Something." He pushes away his frustration with a physical gesture. "Maybe I'm growing up. Maybe I'm getting tired of blaming him for taking you away from me. Maybe I'm finally ready to admit that you were already gone."

"I didn't want to be," she says in a gentle voice.

He nods. "I didn't leave you a choice."

"I never imagined that this is where I would end up."

"He's important to you? You know, he makes you happy?"

She's not sure how to put into words something she herself does not fully understand. She cannot tell Mulder why her relationship with Skinner works as well as it does; if she'd been on the outside looking in, she knows she'd find it crazy. But maybe she can start with the basics.

"He does. Otherwise… I wouldn't be with him. But Mulder, it's different. I don't know that I would say it's _less_ , but he and I aren't like you and I."

"And he's okay with that?"

Mulder senses her temper rising before even she does, and holds up a placating hand. "I didn't mean it like that. I just… he has to know. He's smart enough to realize. Doesn't it bother him that you still… care about me?"

"I love you, Mulder," she says, words she hasn't allowed herself to speak out loud in years. She feels very tired all of a sudden. "That never changed and yes, he knows that. You should ask him about it some time; you'd be surprised what doesn't bother him."

"Context clues suggest I don't want to know."

She huffs a slight laugh, the kind that Mulder always used to draw from her so easily. The more things change, the more they stay the same. "Yeah," she agrees. She reaches over to pat his hand and he grabs hers instead, squeezing it briefly before releasing. "Come on, Mulder. Let's get you home."

Home is the unremarkable house ten minutes away from its closest neighbor. Home is the Navy base in San Francisco; her parents' house in Maryland; the apartment she's sitting in right now. Home is all the places her heart is.

It's spending the evening with another lover. It's sitting next to her on the couch. She's called many places home, over the years, and it always hurt to leave them behind. Finally, she's starting to realize it doesn't have to hurt forever.


End file.
